Legacy of the Night
by NightSlash
Summary: A few months after LXG, The League gets sent to Paris to investigate several brutal murders. What they uncover is a dark conspiracy, and a creature the likes of which they have never before seen.
1. Prologue

Okay, here is the first part of Legacy of the Night. I don't own any of the League members. Oh, and also, I'm putting Sands of Time on hiatus due to the writer's block I've been having on that. 

Well, without more delay, here's the prologue. Oh, one more thing. All the dialogue in this first chapter, even though it's written as English, they're speaking in French, since this is in Paris.

* * *

**_Legacy of the Night_**

* * *

Detective Gregoire took a deep breath, inhaling the dank, musky air that filled the streets. 

He walked down the street, raising his head momentarily as he gazed at the night sky. The moon wasn't present, but there was more than enough light visible with the street lamps. 

Removing the gun that was inside his coat, he inspected it, before opening the chamber to check and see if it was loaded. The last time he had been walking the streets in case of some crime it hadn't been loaded, and because of that he hadn't been able to stop the crook, when he shot him in the leg.

Truth be told, he was bored out of his mind. The past few weeks not many people would be seen walking outside at night, because of the murders. 

It had all started three weeks earlier. A body had been discovered in an alley, a young woman, torn to pieces, almost as if it was some kind of animal. Gregoire didn't believe that, because there weren't any animals around that could have done what had happened to the woman…

He shuddered to himself, as the images of the body reappeared in his mind. What was even worse was that they hadn't even found all her body parts. He knew they had an incredibly sick and twisted killer on their hands. 

The next body was discovered lying right out in the street, the stomach torn open and the road stained in blood. 

But what really concerned people was the third victim.

They had been killed right inside their own home. The police had found the door ripped off the hinges, and the two inhabitants of the home ripped apart, their limbs scattered throughout the house. There was one survivor however…a six year old girl, who was taken into the police's custody, as they tried to get her to talk. So far they had been most unsuccessful, as whatever she saw had shattered her fragile sanity.

Gregoire trailed off in his thoughts as he heard yelling, followed by the sound of a gunshot. He smiled. 

It looked like tonight wouldn't be so boring after all.

* * * 

Henri Chasthel ran through the alley, ignoring the pain in his side, blood pouring from the slash mark and staining his white shirt. 

Finally reaching the end of the alley, he stopped, leaning against the wall for support. Tossing aside his now empty pistol, he inspected the wound near his stomach. From the look of it, the cut wasn't deep, and it was still bleeding slightly, but not much. He would live. 

Grimacing, he moved away from the wall. Looking to the left he saw the streets a bit ahead. If he could make it there, he could yell for help. After all, there had to be a policeman of some sort walking the streets. There always were these times of night.

And then he froze. 

It had been so tiny, but he had heard it. A low growl. 

Not wanting to turn around and see if it was right behind him, he bolted for the street, and behind him he heard the growl grow in volume as it became a loud snarl, followed by heavy sounding footsteps as whatever it was gave chase.

He was almost there, but he didn't make any signs of relief, as it was still following closely behind him.

*  * *

Gregoire finally reached the corner of the street. Looking to the left he watched as a man in his early forties ran out of an alley nearby. As Gregoire moved closer he saw the condition of the man. He was bleeding in his side, his clothing was torn, and he looked like he had seen something from the depths of hell. 

"HELP ME!" the man screamed as he stumbled out, looking around frantically before he saw Gregoire. He moved foreword.

"It's alright. I'm a police officer," Gregoire called back as he moved foreword. "What has happened?"

Henri opened his mouth to speak, before a full fledged roar cut through the night like a sword. Both men turned to the alley just as a giant shadow lunged out like a bat out of hell. Henri only had one second to scream before the shape plowed into him, knocking him to the ground. 

Gregoire instantly ran foreword, drawing his gun and aiming at the shape. "Get away from him or I'll shoot!" he yelled out. When the warning was paid no heed, he pulled the trigger.

The sound of metal hitting metal filled his ears, and the shape turned.

And that was when the light from one of the street lamps fell upon it.

"Oh my god," Gregoire whispered in terror, his eyes staring into the pitch black eyes of what crouched next to the now mutilated body of Henri. Whatever it was, the thing was _enormous_. It raised its head, freshly spilt blood dripping from its jaws. 

Gregoire instantly fired again and again. The thing titled its head to the side as the bullets bounced off its spiked skin, almost as if it was armor. Gregoire pulled the trigger again.

_click___

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. And that was when the thing lunged.

Quickly turning, Gregoire sprinted down the street as fast as his legs could carry him. He could hear the creature behind him, and it was slowly, but surely, getting closer with every passing second.

And then the worst possible thing that could have happened happened...Gregoire slipped. 

He fell to the road, throwing his hands in front of his face to protect it. Quickly getting up on all fours he tried to scramble to his feet. 

Then the pain hit him, a searing pain in his middle section as the creature lashed out, a clawed paw practically impaling his body. 

The last thing he saw was a small bit of blood, that dripped from his mouth, and fell down to the street. 

And then the fanged jaws came down around his head, before slamming shut like a bear trap, and crushing the detective's skull.


	2. Chapter 1

Okay, I apologize for the lack of updates. Well, here's the next part.

* * *

Police chief Jean Francois sighed as he watched some of his men drag away the two mutilated corpses from this latest slaughtering. Around them, a small crowd of people had gathered, watching with worried expressions. Jean couldn't blame them, seeing as how with each night no one was left wondering who would be the next to die.

This new victim, in particular, Gregoire, had been a rather good friend of his, and it pained him to see what this thing had done to him. It was obvious now that the thing wasn't a person, as earlier one person in the crowd claimed to have heard a long, lonely howl sometime during the night, that it had chilled him to the bone, as if a knife of ice had been slowly dragged up his back.

"This is the fifth one in just two months," the detective next to Jean stated, more to himself. Jean simply nodded before turning and walking away from the scene, the detective following. 

"We can't just stand around like idiots and let this, thing continue killing these people. Something has to be done, and it has to be done now."

For a moment there was a long pause, and then his companion spoke up. "I happen to know a few people who might be able to help us."

"Oh?" Jean asked with a raised eyebrow as he looked over, although it was clear he was listening. After all, any help they could get to stopping this creature would be eagerly welcomed.

"Yes, two groups. The first is two detectives, one French and one Asian. They're experts with murder cases." 

Jean nodded. "And the second?"

"The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen." The man trailed off when he saw Jean's confused face. "Have you not heard of them?"

"No, I can't say that I have," Jean answered as he removed his glasses, taking out a small cloth that he wiped the glasses with.

"They're this group who were brought together a few months back, the group that took care of the incident involving the Fantom," the man explained, and Jean's face lit up in recognition.

"Ah yes, now I know who you're talking about. But…do you think they'd help?" 

"Of course, why wouldn't they?" 

Jean shrugged. "It just seems like this wouldn't be considered an emergency, not like the one that was caused by the Fantom." Jean explained, as he put his glasses back on.

"Innocent people are dying left and right here. _Children_ are dying. I think they would help."

Jean nodded. "Very well. Contact them, as well as these other two detectives you mentioned earlier." With that Jean turned and walked down the street, towards the main police station.

* * *

The bobbing target exploded as the bullet collided into it, the pieces quickly sinking down into the cold dark water of the ocean.

Sawyer lowered the Winchester rifle, slightly smiling. That had been the tenth in a row he had gotten, at nine hundred yards.

As he reloaded, he glanced over. "Salau," he said aloud. The crewman nodded and in a few seconds another target was launched, hitting the water with a splash. 

Sawyer aimed the rifle again, slightly narrowing his eyes, not just because to get a better aim…it was because for some reason he kept seeing M, from that same faithful day, as he was fleeing with the box that had the key to starting the world war. The day that Quatermain had been killed, because he turned around and shot Sanderson Reed, saving his life…

His thoughts left as the target exploded from the shot. He lowered the gun, slightly pausing, before raising his head as a gust of wind suddenly picked up. Tom shivered, and suddenly got an uneasy feeling. Something was in the wind that he didn't like.

"Sawyer." Tom glanced over to see that Captain Nemo was standing near the door. "We will be going under soon," he stated. The crewman nodded before moving to the door, Sawyer following after a moment.

"So, where are we going?" Tom asked once he and Nemo were inside.

"Paris. We received a message a few moments ago of some kind of, monster that has been killing people night after night," Nemo explained, his hand moving to the handle of his sword, and then leaving it.

Tom nodded. "Where are the others?"

Nemo paused before answering. "Mina is in her chambers, and Skinner, currently he is trying to teach Jekyll how to play cards."

Tom stopped and starred at Nemo. "You're joking." He stopped when Nemo looked at him. "Right, never mind." Then, a small smile spread across his face. "Now this I have to see," he stated, moving past Nemo down the hall.

* * *

"No, no, no!"

Tom entered the dining room, where he saw Skinner and Jekyll sitting opposite each other at the table. There was a deck of playing cards seated between the two on the table, and both Skinner and Jekyll had six cards. Skinner looked up as Sawyer entered. "Hey," he greeted simply as Tom pulled up a seat. "I'm just trying to teach Jekyll here the fine art of poker."

"And how to cheat in it," Jekyll added, slightly frowning.

If Skinner rolled his eyes, neither could tell, as he turned to face Tom. "The trick is to hide certain cards in your coat sleeves." As he spoke he lifted his coat sleeve, as if to show him. "It doesn't always work, but it can have some nice payoffs." 

Jekyll sighed as he set his cards down. "I'd have better luck just letting Hyde out and having him mug the people," he mumbled to himself, but it was loud enough for both Skinner and Tom to hear him.

Skinner grinned, which was a rather bizarre sight for Tom seeing as how Skinner's teeth were invisible, but his face wasn't due to the makeup. "Now you're thinking right. I knew I'd have a positive influence on one of you people," Skinner said rather cheerfully as he stood up, giving Jekyll a pat on the back before walking out of the room. Jekyll groaned while Tom just smirked.

* * *

The small bar was populated with what would be considered lowlifes. The people sat, drinking beer, playing cards, conversing with their friends, or in some cases, pounding the faces of others.

Then the door to the tavern swung open, some rain from the storm outside pouring in. Most of the movement inside stopped as everyone turned and stared as the two newcomers walked in. They were each wearing long dark raincoats, with hats that hid their features in the shadows as they moved toward the bar, each taking a seat.

"Can I help you two?" the bartender asked as he finished drying off a mug with a cloth. 

"Yes," the one in the lighter coat said, his voice carrying a French accent. "We're looking for a man who came in here a while ago. He called himself Drake." 

The bartender nodded. "Yeah, he's over in the back corner." He pointed to the corner, where both men looked, and stood up, moving over to him.

Suddenly, their path was blocked by two rather large individuals. "You two aren't welcome here, leave."

The Frenchman cocked an eyebrow. "And why are we not welcome?"

The second man glanced at the frenchman's companion. "Because your friend here is a jap." As he spoke he moved forward, grabbing the second man's hat and yanking it off. Under the hat was the face of a Japanese man in his early thirties. Dark hair went down to his shoulders, and his dark brown eyes suddenly glared at the two. "Both of you get out and there won't be any trouble."

The Frenchman sighed and removed his own hat. He was older, in his forties, and his hair was cut very short to his head, but his eyes were the same color as the Asian's. The Frenchman smirked. "Sorry, but we like trouble."

In a flash, the Asian lashed out with a open palm, hitting the first man in the chest, and sending him stumbling back with a gasp. The second man growled before reaching into his coat and pulling out a knife with a blade bigger than the Asian's head. He slashed wildly at the man, who stepped back, dodging the slashes and stabs with an almost bored expression.

The first man moved to attack the Asian, when a hand suddenly fell on his shoulder. He turned to see the Frenchman glaring at him. "Dance with me, please," he said bitterly before smashing his fist into the man's face. His head snapped backwards as blood exploded from his nose. Quickly shaking his head he snarled and attacked, punching at the Frenchman, who grabbed his arm before slamming a knee into his gut. Then, grabbing him by the front of his outfit, he threw him through the air, where his back collided into a empty table, shattering the wood as if it was glass. 

Meanwhile the second man was still slashing at the Asian, when suddenly the Asian ducked, and then as he stood up, slammed both fists into the man, causing the man to stumble back. The Asian wasn't done, as he twirled and lashed out with his foot, slamming into his chest. As the man gasped, the Asian leapt up and struck him a final time with a reverse roundhouse kick, his boot colliding with the man's jaw, effectively breaking it and knocking the man out cold.

Their opponents down for the count, the two men glanced at each other, and then at the other people in the bar, who looked like they new better than to mess with these two. Nodding, they moved to the table in the corner and sat down.

"That was quite impressive Jacques, and Nobunaga," the man, who was hidden in the shadows of the corner congratulated the two. "You know about what's going on in Paris, correct?" When the two nodded the man leaned forward, partially revealing his face. "Good, then you know your assignment. Go there, find this beast, and kill it…oh, and you might have some competition." That was all he said before standing and moving towards the door.

That done, Jacques and Nobunaga rose to their feet and moved towards the exit. Then, Nobunaga stopped, and moving towards the bartender, pulled out a small sack and handed it to him. "Money to repair that table," he explained, his English surprisingly good. Then, he followed Jacques outside.

A groan filled the air, and the bartender turned as the man who had been thrown into the table slowly stood up, wincing in pain. "That bastard. I'm going to go out there and give him a piece of my-"

The bartender sighed. "Just shut up. You always say that and then you get beat up anyway. Just keep your mouth shut and then you won't get beaten on so much." He sighed again, this time to himself. "Idiot."


End file.
